


It Was Love

by espers770



Category: SPY x FAMILY (Manga)
Genre: ....friends is a stretch, ...Maybe?, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkwardness, Childhood Frenemies, Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kinda, POV Damian, Secret Crush, Song fic, damian is a simp, tsundere damian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espers770/pseuds/espers770
Summary: If you asked Damian Desmond his feelings on Anya Forger he’d pick one of two things to say: either that he doesn’t think of her at all or that she’s a bumbling idiot. His true thoughts would beg to differ. From ages 6 to 18 Damian has been forced to acknowledge the enigmatic existence that is Anya Forger and his own desires regarding her unfortunate presence in his life.Slightly based on the song It Was Love by LANY but there's only one verse that I think applies...
Relationships: Damian Desmond & Anya Forger, Damian Desmond/Anya Forger
Comments: 41
Kudos: 114





	1. Age 6: Shut Up

**Author's Note:**

> So I finished this fic, which I have been working on for MONTHS (awkward I know for under 5k words), because I am in a HUGE writing slump. In order to milk this for all its worth I'm gonna be updating every day or so instead of all at once...also so I can finally have a complete chapter fic under my belt. 
> 
> The second chapter is my least favorite and still haunts me so when you read it uhhhhh keep that in mind.

_We were sixteen but I have  
Known you since second grade  
We were best friends but I have  
Wanted you in different ways_

_  
Damian wanted to shut Anya up._

She was so small that first day. Her stiff movements and undeterred glare made her stand out in that room of 208 children and their parents. Her hair, vibrant pink, only made her stick out further. From the crowd he had noticed her, though she sat so far back in the auditorium she attracted his eyes like flies to honey. He only meant to sweep the room to check for any notable names, friends that could be of use to him later, but as he anticipated he was the highest born out of all the new students. They bored him, the entire crowd was filled with people that would lick his shoes and call him a god if he asked. 

The only one he hadn’t recognized was her. Eden wasn’t to be underestimated, but if he didn’t know her name she was most likely a low born member of society, someone who didn’t fit in in the slightest. Judging by the features of her parents there was a slim possibility she could’ve been some foreign socialite. Then again he couldn’t make out their faces, only their outlines and basic features from his position on the stage. 

His eyes followed her until she took her first step onto the stage to be grouped with the other members of Cecil house. It was just his luck that the one anomaly in the entire student body was his classmate. 

It was painfully awkward to see her walk across the platform past the podium, so green and bewildered. The sight fueled his ego and stifled any of his concern over her existence. She was merely a shy girl unfamiliar with the workings of the academy. She would be eaten up by the harsh environment in no time if she continued to make herself stand out. 

  
Damian only realized he spoke to soon when she met his scrutinizing glance with a stare of her own. Unlike his eyes hers were filled with wonderment, and a little determination. Somehow Damian began to feel a little too relaxed, and consequently out of place. 

He continued to look at her, his pride not letting him step down, but neither would she. Perhaps he had overestimated her, and made a false assumption once again. This girl was undoubtedly in love with him at first sight. Why else would she continue to stare at him with eyes that had ‘be mine’ written all over them? Admiration from such an odd girl wasn’t nearly as big of a compliment as he would like it to be. Taking a closer look she wasn’t half bad, but for a first grader she was terribly short. He liked shy girls at least, those who wouldn’t give him too much grief in the future. 

As soon as he had given her the benefit of the doubt she turned her back to him, it was endearing how bashful she was. He could get used to having her around, to entertain him throughout the dull academy experience. 

But she made her way over to Becky Blackwell. Damn this girl was smart, making an impression on those of the highest status on the first day. The Blackwells were longtime partners of the Desmond group, she’d be set for life if she even made one friend. This also raised the question of whether she had only been staring at him because she knew his father, who wouldn’t? Anya could be scheming her way into a rich future as they stood there and he would’ve been all too naive. Damian wouldn’t let that happen. 

The tour went along all too smoothly, though not without him catching a few looks from Anya in his peripheral vision. It wasn’t long before students began to gather around him, slowly recognizing him as the son of the president of the National Unity Party. Earning their respect was like stealing candy for a baby, no one wouldn’t try to align themselves with a member of the most influential family in Ostania, and potentially the entire western world. 

The only two girls who stood off to the side were Anya and Becky. It irked him that she didn’t jump at the chance to associate with him like the others. Then again she had been proven to be shy, of course he would need to make the first move. Damian felt a smirk growing on his face, he really was such a charitable guy. 

“And what about you? What do your parents do?”

The question was a mere formality, he didn’t really expect that much from her answer, maybe she had sense enough to avoid the question.   
  
Anya’s eyes widened as she tilted her head to look up at him. She still was pretty cute from this close, lucky her, but her hairstyle was tacky. Not to mention how stupid she looked with her mouth gaping open like that. 

“Depending on how important they are, I could let you be my friend.”

He almost chuckled, her expression was so pathetic, and his words so generous. Anya was so very lucky to receive this much attention from an esteemed Desmond. 

“He’s a mind doctor.”

It was such a shame she failed to surprise him once more. A doctor. And a non surgical specialty at that! Could you even call that a profession? Anya really was ignorant to the honor of Eden academy, commoners weren’t a good fit. So shameless. 

“I bet you’re poor too.” He barely held back the scoff that came with it. 

Ewen and Emile were quick to back him up, berating her with a barrage of insults. They worshiped the ground he walked on, he couldn’t help it if others were hurt in the process.

Anya didn’t react at first, the poor girl must have been in shock. She lowered her head and clenched her fists, her reaction was so textbook it almost made Damian scoff again. But his breath shouldn’t be wasted on her anyways. 

Her eyes widened for a brief seconds before settling into agitating slits. Her pupils shrank and looked down on him, despite her height, with a loathsome scowl. Anya’s eyebrows quirked at an angle that just screamed audacity and sure enough Damian was incensed. But her smirk, her smirk was the worst of them all. A commoner like her shouldn’t have the gall to even look him in the eye, disregarding the entire interaction from earlier, but she would not back down. She was just beckoning him to fire back at her, but the exasperation in her smile left him at a loss for words. 

He was wrong. Anya wasn’t cute or shy or any of those things he said about her. She was annoying as hell.   
  
And he just wanted to smack the sneer off of that aggravating face of hers. 


	2. Age 10: Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter is....I think the most cringe worthy thing I've ever written I hope it's still enjoyable. Basically just Damian being a little shit and Anya seeing right through him.

_ Damian wanted to make Anya cry. _

He’d caught sight of it once, her crying face. 

All the way back in the first grade she had punched him so hard his soul had left his body. Damian swore a mark in the shape of her knuckles was on his face for two weeks straight, and after that the bruise was still visible for another whole week. It was painful and annoying, but nothing was worse than the embarrassment that came with seeing her face to face following the ordeal. 

When she apologized the humiliation only multiplied and he wasn’t even the one who ended up in tears. 

Anya approached him quietly, something he had learned not to expect from her, and didn’t hold anything back. Emile and Ewen insulted and made every demeaning comment in the book, and still she did not falter. She looked up at him ever so gently, with eyes watering like a reflective pool. He could see his scornful face sneering back at him in that painful expression and he wanted to escape, no he needed to. Anya’s hands raised tentatively in front of her chest, fidgeting enough to be just short of quivering. 

The silence between this awkward shuffle and her actual apology had Damian tapping his foot out of impatience, or maybe it had been anticipation. 

_ No, of course not.  _

Damian didn’t owe Anya the time of day. He had simply been annoyed with her childish behavior. 

And here she was again being such a nuisance he wanted to rip out his hair with every deepening shade of red rising in his cheeks. 

He sneered, as one should in this situation. Damian couldn’t even remember the insult that came out of his mouth, all he could recall were the fat tears rolling down her cheeks at the sight of his face.    
  
She bawled and bawled, flubbering over her words and hardly making sense at all. Anya apologized over and over, the only clear words he could hear were “sorry” and “let’s please be friends.” 

The sight of her running nose was pathetic and her complexion was ruined into a blotchy mess, but she still took his ability to think properly away. He made a fool of himself just standing there before her those years ago, his friends saw him act incredibly lame and it was all her fault.    
  
Damian needed revenge and he would get it. 

This time when she cried he’d be in control of the situation entirely. 

Now in some cursed turn of events Anya’s assigned seat was placed directly to his left. The back of the classroom was his safe haven, no one bothered him and he could observe the hilarious failings of all his classmates in peace. Or it had been that way until the fourth grade. 

Her presence was just as annoying as he expected. No matter the time of day Anya would sneak snacks, and fail to hide them for long, underneath her desk. The crunching noise of peanuts haunted Damian’s nightmares. Not only that, but she just dropped the shells wherever she pleased, his desk or her’s, the floor, her pencil case, all were fair game besides the trashcan just a few feet away. 

She also loudly complained during any assessment. Anya was just one straw short of being a total dunce. Her math skills were especially lacking, and no matter what she just had to state her stream of consciousness out loud. It distracted him, forced him to doubt his answers and didn’t even help her in the long run. Her miserable scores stayed the same with or without that blasted muttering, and of course she was just enough of an idiot to not see this obvious fact and continued on. 

Anya’s current favorite obsession that caused Damian to debate shooting his brains out was tapping out an entire score with her writing utensils. The level of enthusiasm rivaled that of a band performing for an audience of ten thousand people at a sold out stop of their world tour. 

_ Tap, tap tap.  _   
  
The rhythm of her pencil had gone unperturbed for almost an hour. For an entire class period Damian endured it, but he couldn’t stand it any longer. Today was the day the line was crossed, he couldn’t hold back his rage. Anya would bawl in regret and beg for his forgiveness no matter what. 

“Oi Anya tapping your pen on the desk isn’t going to make you any smarter.”

His voice was laced with venom, and Anya’s ears perked up, the reaction he desired. 

“Maybe if you used it to hit your head and not the desk you’d knock some sense into yourself.”

Her scowl sent a bit of a thrill down his spine. He had to hold back his laughter. The sight was so incredibly funny. Anya tried so hard to be taken seriously, but she had actually hesitated, about to take his ‘advice’ literally before realizing what he meant. 

  
“Never mind, you’d need a rock instead to get the job done,” he let out with a chuckle. Her reaction was just what he wanted. Anya jerked slightly back, the smirk she began to don faltering to take in the taunt. 

“Shut up Scion I’m working here!”

“Working? Really,” It was comical just seeing her keep a straight face while spitting an obtuse lie, “you haven’t worked productively a day in your life.”

“That’s not true!” Her eyes stared him down, almost at the brink of sadness already, “I work very hard thank you very much.” She paused to recollect her thoughts, “you’re the one relying on daddy’s money.”

“Yeah? At least my father has money. Your sorry excuse of a dad is essentially a failure.” 

He hadn’t even allowed her a moment to relish in her retort. Goddamn he had outdone himself. Anya’s face had ‘dumbfounded’ written all over it. Damian was able to witness her expression shifting from surprise, to anger, to defeat. Her gaping mouth and raised eyebrows soon angled downward, a furrowed brow and frown respectfully. She attempted to raise an insult at him but shut her mouth quickly, she was at a loss for words. It was his win. 

Anya’s frown deepened, only slightly but her lip quivered. So much for all that big talk now. The poor girl was surprisingly sensitive, he could swear on his life she hadn’t matured a day past 6 years old. He could see it, his goal, just building up behind the lash line of his nemesis. It seemed like her dad’s incompetence was a sore subject, obviously because she knew how stupid her family was already. Anyone who hung out with her 24/7 was bound to be a dunce, hell if they raised a kid to become Anya Forger something had to be wrong with them. 

  
It was taking too long. Anya’s silent conflict with her own emotions following his taunting was a slow process. What could Damian have expected from a girl with the iq of the gum on the bottom of his shoe?

_ Go ahead and cry, you nuisance.  _

And just as if his thoughts had reached her, through the power of his annoyance, her eyes dried.

It was instantaneous. One second he was relishing in the glory of ruining her mood, the next she sent him a scowl more impactful than the rest. 

But it was her leering smile that sealed his loss once and for all. In typical Anya fashion she looked down on him like he was scum. The heat rose on the back of his neck, why’d she have to be so goddamn frustrating! 

_ Dammit Anya!  _

He was at the loss for words now. How was he supposed to respond to an expression only anyways? All she had done was smirk and turn away and he had reduced him to a panicked child. He shouldn’t have let this happen again! How could he let this happen again! 

“That’s all you’ve got huh? That same stupid look.” 

He waited for five seconds for a response before he began sweating. This was the queue for Anya to answer him, for his plan to get back on track. Instead Anya let out a noise that was barely a scoff. 

Damian was used to being leered at, ridiculed and even punched. 

But being ignored was very new, and he hated every second of it. 


	3. Age 14: Attention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to post this yesterday oops, anyways not so spoiler alert Damian continues to be a dick and embarrass himself except now he can SWEAR

_ Damian wanted Anya to notice him.  _

The Eden football team was exceptional to say the least, and far greater than it would be with Damian than without. He was a star striker, and had held that position since grade 5, now 14 he had finally advanced to the U-18 team, essentially the best team in the greater Berlint area. He played rugby, lacrosse and dabbled in tennis but none held his attention like a sport he was the best at. 

The large games were exciting, girls screaming his name and number from the crowd was invigorating, though above all he lived to see the crestfallen faces of the opposing team as they lost by a margin so large it was shameful. 

Being the best just suited him, that’s all. 

This game would qualify them for a regional tournament, if they won there they would qualify for the national championship. It was months away but he could taste the victory on the tip of his tongue. Remnants of electrolyte solution mixed with the salty taste of his own seat, or tears, was calling his name. 

The clock just barely indicated that there were 3 minutes left in the game. This moment should’ve been invigorating, it should’ve brought wide smiles to the faces of all his teammates and energy to their last kicks and passes. Instead he found himself looking at a pack of teenages boys dragging themselves across the pitch. Just three minutes left and they were down by two. Two entire points. It might not seem like much in the eyes of an outsider but those points stood the line between life and death. 

Eden dominated the field. For years the team was a team of winners. They played undefeated preseasons, offseasons and main seasons where it mattered most. He wouldn’t bet his life on it but Damian was pretty sure they hadn’t lost a regional match in 20 years. 

Some commoners' schools located in what might as well be the slums of Wohlstand had shown them up. Scratch that they were kicking their asses. 

Just looking at their newbie striker waving his arms to the crowd and running buck wild around the pitch made his face flush and stomach sink with anger. How in the hell could one person be so pompous. Only he reserved the right to flaunt victory in the face of those weaker, it was just the natural order of things. 

It only made it worse that the Eden side of the observing bleachers was practically dead silent. Someone should really teach those spoiled brats to cheer, it's kind of what normal people do to encourage their friends. He couldn’t blame them, no one at the academy knew how to react to loss, especially him. 

“Desmond get your shit together!”

His coach's voice suddenly became really irritating. No one else in the entire world spoke to him like that, but if he pointed it out he might’ve gotten a nickname like “daddy’s money” or “pomp head,” no offense to Ewen and Emile of course. 

He did already have a nickname of sorts, if “sy-on” boy even qualified. 

That goddamn sneer clouded his brain. Once he started thinking of how infuriating that brat was he couldn’t stop. Somehow Anya managed to antagonize him even without being present. 

If she were in the stands now how would he even react?

_ “Damian your left!” _

Honestly he’d probably give her the most intimidating glare of her poor life. 

_ “I’m open!” _

Yeah, she deserved it. It was better if she stayed far away from him when he was trying to play a serious match. Lowlifes like her shouldn't get to see him in action. 

“That’s our ace!”

The crowd roared to his left. Damian’s teammates were crowding around him. Wide smiles donned on every face even with buckets of sweat dripping down their temples. 

Caught in that sweaty ball of teenage bodies Damian hadn’t felt this confused in his short life. Everyone was displaying overjoyed expressions, so it was a good thing, and the opposing team was spitting into the turf and furrowing their brows. 

Had he scored?

Damian had half a mind to dismiss that possibility without as much as a second glance, but something stopped him. Maybe it was pride but he did indeed have more talent subconsciously than most would ever achieve. Yeah, that’s right, he was the best and the best were always working, whether they were lost in thought or not.

He only let his own blank expression change when he saw the scoreboard, and the slightly smaller distance between scores was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He couldn’t peel his eyes away when the mass of bodies began to jump around him, or when that same pile started to disperse. 

Behind him his teammates were lining up to resume the game. It was their fault for already forgetting about his existence rather than his fault for being unable to quit his staring. The number had never lit his heart on fire like this. 

Winning was a rush of its own, the pure joy and self assuredness that followed were a bonus. But somehow that satisfaction of crawling away from the edge of defeat made his mind buzz even more. 

The rush he felt when he spotted a tuft of pink hair peeking out of the top of the bleachers definitely surpassed that feeling. 

Panic took its sweet time settling in. 

In what reality did Anya Forger ever attend his games? It was quite possible her just showing up in his peripheral vision was a sign of the apocalypse. He thought he had made it very clear how little he wanted to see her when he was in his element. There was nothing that brat could do but hinder his game. 

All hope was lost when that glimpse of pink rose to reveal a face that was undeniably Anya’s.

The high intensity of the match must have been making him insane because for the briefest of seconds he found himself wishing she’d look at him. That sick validation seeking part of his brain wanted her attention when he scored. Obviously he wanted to best her in everything, not that she had ever scored a goal in her pathetic athletic career. 

On cue she turned her focus away from the irrelevant friend beside her and toward the pitch. 

Damian jumped. 

Not only did she show up at the most critical moment of his life, but her eyes bore directly into his. She looked pained somehow, half covering her ears with her hands before realizing it was futile to try and drown out the noise of the crowd around her. Though she was obviously struggling that didn’t stop her from signaling him with a quick quirk of her brow. 

_ What in the hell could that mean? _

The expression made the back of his neck burn, somehow she was managing to make him feel stupid without words. His life honestly might improve if he filed a restraining order. No Anya within 50 feet? That would be paradise. 

He wasn’t lowering himself to that status of a commoner...but he did reply to her quizzical look with a confused expression of his own. 

He leaned forward to get a better look at her. Anya was mouthing something, but she was way too far out for him to understand any of it. 

Urgently she pointed her finger to her left. Her lips formed out “ _ T H E G..” _

_ FUCK. _

The buzzer went off from behind him, drowning out all the other players and Anya’s obvious frustration. Because of her he hadn’t been focused on the game, in it’s most crucial moment. WHat in his life had she not spiraled into a mess?

Desperately he turned toward the scoreboard, hoping and praying for the obvious to not be true. 

“Ah,” Damian forced himself to ignore his glowering teammates and the jubilation coming from beside the opposing team’s goal. 

They lost. 


	4. Age 18: Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don’t get your hopes up guys, Damian is an idiot so of course I couldn’t just let him kiss her like her wants to 🙄 there’s no actual kissing just unknowing pining on his part. 
> 
> Sorry this took me so long to post btw, after the last chapter I wanted to go back and rewrite this because I just felt a confession scene (that it was originally) didn’t really fit his character.

_ Damian wanted to kiss Anya.  _

When he was younger Damian longed to get out of the crowded Eden dormitory. Back then he believed the kids to be under his station, crude even, and most definitely a group of unloved delinquents. Whether he was one of those unloved delinquents was up for debate. 

His father would only acknowledge his request to stay at home under the condition that he would be able to go to and from alone. The man had told a sixth grader his housing was a privilege, and regretfully he was right. He patiently waited for years before asking again. In retrospect a terrible decision compared to living with his friends simply because his father really granted his request. Being around those mannerless brats was annoying but at least he wasn’t lonely. 

At eighteen he had been walking home alone for four years. The son of the most influential man in the country, walking miles alone to and from the most expensive private school in the area, possibly even the world. 

That bastard Donovan Desmond said it built character and maybe it had made Damian a more tragic figure above all else. The neglected teenage boy, the forgotten scion. As stated before he was a high profile kid, prone to the verbal attacks of citizens who refused to support his father, but nothing any worse. For a while he had himself convinced his father hired someone to keep watch over him, currently he acknowledged how disillusioned that sounded. 

He could almost feel the breath of the academy’s heavy mahogany doors down his back. As per usual he was one of the first out of the classroom upon hearing the familiar toll of the final bell. He had made quick work of exiting the building, but he couldn’t muster the will to actually leave. 

It’s always hard to motivate yourself when you can see your future suffering spread out in front of you. Damian could physically see the long shrub lined pathway to the school’s iron gate and the bustling streets beyond. If he ran out onto the sidewalk and all five sweaty miles back to his house he would surely arrive quicker, but his dignity was at stake.

He would never ruin his new blazer, so he opted to wait until the sun got just close to the horizon to force him into action. 

The fall air was crisp, perfect weather for enjoying the sun and breeze without all the humidity that usually came with it. Rays of sun graced the red brick of the school buildings and the old ivy that decorated them. The courtyard trees had long changed into a complete symphony of warm colors. Reds, oranges and yellows made for a very pretty scene to gaze listlessly at. 

Damian enjoyed the smell of autumn. The scent was often laced with a hint of fire and the earthy smell of maturing leaves. He felt it envelop him and leave its traces on his skin, along with a faint blush from the smallest preview of biting winter cold that was to come. 

Some students playing soccer filled the air with their laughter. He squinted to catch their faces just in time to see a friend attempt to wave him over. Naturally Damian declined. If he moved to join them his ears would no longer be able to detect the insignificant sounds that he enjoyed so much. 

Underneath his foot he crushed a small piece of gravel against the stone step. The modest crunching noise it produced was nothing compared to the sounds of dry leaves under his expensive loafers. 

The academy doors created a deafening boom as they crashed against their frame, the pebble long forgotten and concealed by his heel. Someone leaving as late as he was was a rare occurrence, and not a welcome one. He wasn’t prepared to be interrupted. Whoever the oaf was had no appreciation for discretion, that was for sure. 

Judging by the noise created by their footsteps a girl was slowly approaching him from behind. Damian’s best strategy was to ignore her, as long as he didn’t strike up a conversation he could continue his procrastination in peace. 

She bridged the gap between them without hesitating. It wouldn’t have been brazen if she was simply going home, but it was clear from the way she lingered at his back. Damian feared she’d try and strike up a conversation and he would be unprepared. 

He’d act first.

Without a wisp of a plan he looked over his shoulder, hopeful that the interaction could be absolved as soon as possible. 

His self righteous glare was met with bright green eyes and the most unruly pink hair he knew of. Anya Forger, the prime example of a lazy student leaving the school late? Preposterous. The girl didn’t participate unless you practically threatened her father’s life over it. 

Deep down he felt like a fool for assuming she was here to speak to him. In the first few seconds of his shocked staring she didn’t glance at him for a millisecond. Damian closed his jaw but didn’t cease his observation of her. 

  
Anya’s hair was long now, well below her slender shoulders. It glowed in front of the rapidly setting sun. The color was more of an orange, taking on the characteristics of the gorgeous autumn sunset he had long forgotten in favor of her. 

Somehow the universe always managed to pull them together. Anya was a blackhole he had fallen victim to, her presence overwhelmed him. At first he believed her to be easy bait, someone he could tease and never face any backlash from. It was almost mortifying how wrong he was. Anya was the opposite of some easy girl. She was strong willed, and hard to forget. 

Damian spent way too much time thinking about her. Much more than she deserved. 

Every second she distracted his thoughts was a second he lost time that he could’ve used to think about important things. His so-called future was rapidly approaching, the time he wasted now would only set him back further. Anya was effectively ruining him. 

It hurt him how useless he was in front of her. Never was there a situation he was able to prioritize his ambition over her. His first day of school set his fate in stone, in classes with her he hardly learned a thing and she took away his ability to act under pressure.

It was all her fault. The day he’d admit he had his failings was a day he would no longer exist. 

Anya must have been ignoring him if she had stayed this indifferent beside his obvious internal conflict. Damian stared and frowned all he wanted but she continued to look out past the schoolyard. 

Anya was the embodiment of youth despite the fact she was going off into the world in under a year. There wasn’t a harsh line anywhere on her entire body. Her cheeks were round even in the stagnant pout she always wore around him. Long eyelashes gave the impression that her eyes were always bright and alert. 

_ Her lips looked soft.  _

Just the thought felt forbidden. Damian furrowed his brow and turned away from her, it was embarrassing. Thinking of Anya in that way was taboo, he’d known her for far too long, right? It should be impossible to think of a girl like her in that way…

Just to make sure he wasn’t crazy he took another small look at her, it was only necessary after all. 

Anya had the same idea and met his gaze this time. The sun’s position behind her didn’t change the radiance of her eyes, in fact it only made her look even more intimidating. A girl with vibrant pink hair was fearsome as long as Damian continued to feel humiliated at his own thoughts. 

If Anya had somehow heard that personal slip up she didn’t show it, even if she chose now to finally pay attention to him. 

Her attention didn’t matter, she didn’t care for him, only for making him uncomfortable. He needed the reminder before he lost his dignified self entirely. 

She hadn’t uttered a word and Damian was ready to back down. The sun would reach its final position above the horizon in a matter of minutes. The walk home wasn’t pleasant but it’d be much better than this. 

Escaping wasn’t the most proud of strategies but it did have appropriate situations such as now. 

Nonchalantly, or an attempt at seeming so, he slung his backpack over both shoulders. Once more the small pebble he had stepped on grinded against the stone of the Eden entranceway. The slight noise filled the silence all too well. He was eager to reach the stairs and get this over with. 

Damian hadn’t left the doorway a yard behind him when he heard a familiar small footstep nipping at his heels. 

No pause necessary:  _ was Anya following him? _

He stopped in his tracks, pulling out a watch adorned wrist as an excuse to check if it were true. 

Anya stopped as well, answering him before he could even speak. 

“Oh Damian, I was waiting for you.”

He didn’t have to turn around or look at her to feel the burn of a blush on the back of his neck. The smile in her voice suited her so horribly well. 

Maybe she did care. Not that it would ever matter to him. 

  
  
  



End file.
